Ink
by OND
Summary: Draco Malfoy always loathed the dreadful news letters brought and the most irritating noise a quill makes when scratching across a colorless parchment. Set OOTP
1. Prologue

It was a frosty day in November when Dumbledore felt something amiss. The portraits still slept peacefully in his office, forever providing a certain tranquil feeling for whoever entered the room. The Gargoyles, eternally on guard duty, were still ugly and motionless, unless triggered into movement by a peculiar password. The Hogwarts gates were still bound tightly shut, one of the few things on the school's grounds that was not covered by the continuous snow due to carefully placed magic, and kept the students safe inside their dorms. The dungeons were locked, the staircases were moving, and the prefects were currently running their rounds. Fawkes was sleeping silently in his cage nearby, and of course, the lemon drops were still delicious.

However, all of these comforting thoughts did not stop the unusual shiver that ran down the old man's spine, nor the sudden wave of nausea that he hadn't felt since his first earwax flavor bean.

Despite the strange omen, Dumbledore was still every bit surprised when Severus Snape came bursting through the door, wheezing heavily and greasy hair disheveled. He did not even acknowledge himself, but instead started to talk very rapidly, causing the portraits to wake and complain.

But Dumbledore did not hear them, because the more the Professor spoke, the greater the Headmaster's eyes widened, and by the time Severus had finished, Dumbledore's mouth was agape, and the office was consumed in silence. The witches and wizards on the wall did not say a word.

And Albus Dumbledore, who had always presented himself with the utmost grace since the death of his sister, was speechless.

With a jerky, curt nod, Severus turned and left


	2. Chapter 1

Draco's hand was shaky against his mouth as he wiped the sweat off his chin. His skin was ghastly white, whiter than the parchment that was lying wrinkled on the floor, covered with graceful script that could only belong to a Malfoy. The silver ribbon that had once been entwined around the letter was now clutched tightly in Draco's hand, as some means of comfort. The family owl shuffled impatiently near the window, completely out of tune to Draco's erratic heartbeat. Draco gracefully pulled out a piece of parchment from his schoolbag, and grabbed a nearby quill with his other hand, letting the ribbon drop in his lap. He wanted to desperately break the quill in two, or use it to carve profanities into the wall. But Draco Malfoy was not raised that way, so instead, he closed his eyes for a brief second, took a calming breath, and slowly began his reply.

_Dear Father..._

* * *

Since the beginning of his first year in Hogwarts, Potions had always been Harry Potter's least favorite class. Besides the fact that the professor seemed to despise him for no reason whatsoever, he was absolute crap at it. When he was ordered to chop, he would always crush. When the potion called for a two minute stirring, Harry would stir for three. It never smelled right, the hue was always off, and he barely could produce its desired effect, if ever at all.

However, since Professor Umbridge arrived at the school, going to Potions every day seemed less mentally exhausting, because it was commonly known amongst the students that nothing could be more boring than the newly modified Defense Against the Dark Arts.

It was also common knowledge that Draco Malfoy was never late for Potions-which was why it was highly unusual that Snape was currently scribbling instructions on the board and he had yet to arrive.

During normal circumstances, Harry could care less. Except the entire Slytherin side of the room was deep in hushed whispers discussing it. Normally whispering was a subtle and quiet act, but one will find that when a large group of people are doing it at once, what they're talking about is obvious to those around them.

This was unfortunate for Harry, because he was desperately trying to concentrate. Not on his Potions assignment, (that was a lost cause, anyway) but on everything that had been dumped on him since his arrival at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Like: where was Voldemort now? What was he doi-_Where could he be? We're gonna lose points for this!_

Or: what specific thing was Sirius talking about when he said Vol-_Nah, everyone knows Malfoy is Snape's favorite student, he'll get off easy..._

And what about: Why Dumbledore had barely made eye contact with him since-_Do you think maybe it's those letters again?_

"Shut it!" Ron shouted towards the other side of the classroom, making the Slytherins abruptly drop their discussion, and everyone else drop their ingredients. Harry let out a sigh of gratitude and suppressed his laughter when Hermione elbowed Ron in the chest.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley," was the slow drawl from Snape, echoing its way through the room, all the way to the tip of Ron's now beet-red ears. This time, Harry joined Hermione with a good elbow to the chest.

It was by this time that Harry decided to give up on his brooding, mostly because his potion was starting to stink, and the foul scent was giving him a headache. He grabbed for chopped beetle hastily and threw in what was probably the wrong amount, but at his least the stench was gone.

It was then that a loud bang echoed throughout the classroom. Draco Malfoy walked into the room briskly. His typical scowl was set firmly on his face, his hair was slicked back with its aggravating perfection, and his nose was turned up almost as if everyone in the room had done some person wrong towards him. Harry also noticed, however, that his eyes seemed red and swollen, like someone's would after they had received very little sleep.

Snape turned around slightly, and locked eyes with Draco. The moment was so quick and subtle that Harry almost thought he imagined it, and yet Harry could not ignore the compassion and worry that he believed shone in Snape's eyes, emotions that he did not think the greasy man was capable of, and the effect that it had on Harry was like ice water had been dumped on him.

And just like that Snape turned to the blackboard as if nothing had happened, and the shock that Harry had felt was quickly replaced by irritation as again Slytherin escaped was should have been an appropriate and well-deserved point-deduction.

Harry thought he heard Ron mumble something close to "Not fair," and possibly a "Leave it, Ronald," from Hermione, which only sparked Harry's aggravation with the situation. He looked at Malfoy, maybe to glare and show his obvious annoyance, or maybe to catch a glimpse of his eyes; Harry wasn't sure.

He was sitting next to Pansy, who was talking to him, or rather, Pansy was talking at him and Malfoy was staring into the distance. He hadn't gotten out any of his potion-making equipment, and he was scratching his fingernails against his desk. His eyes gravitated around the room, glimpsing objects and faces and yet not really absorbing them. It wasn't until Pansy leaned over and whispered harshly into his ear that he started, and got up to retrieve a cauldron and the required ingredients.

After that, class dragged on normally. Harry ultimately dropped his frantic and worried thoughts in an attempt to revive his potion, which only lead to a weird bubbling mixture that spat and splashed on his face, leading to him smelling like rotting insects. At the end of class Hermione was lecturing Harry on how he chopped the beetle wrong and that he didn't stir at the right moment and other things that Harry didn't care about, until Ron shut her up by abruptly complimenting her on her hair. All in all, it was a typical Potion's class.

The only thing different about it-besides Malfoy's late arrival-was Harry's mood. Harry was quite used to being agitated and crabby after Potions; it was a common reaction from most students that didn't belong in Slytherin house. However, Harry was not annoyed and frustrated like usual, but instead suddenly furious.

Furious at his friends and everyone else around him who could even _get _frustrated at such an unimportant thing like Snape's favoritism, when there were much more essential things to be worried about, like _Voldemort, and what does he have planned, and what is it that Sirius isn't allowed to tell me and-_

Again Harry's rant was interrupted by a snotty, high-pitched voice: "Get away, will you!" Harry turned to see a crowd forming around Malfoy, and that the voice belonged to none other than Pansy, who was clinging to him protectively. His goons, Crabbe and Goyle, were dutifully standing behind him. "Leave Draco alone! Why he was late today is none of your business, you nosey idiots!"

"Look at them all, those animals, acting as if Malfoy were some king or something. King of Prats, maybe," Ron said disgustingly as they were leaving, trying to squeeze by the crowd. Harry could only nod in agreement, his head was beginning to hurt, either from his overwhelming thoughts or his agitation, he wasn't sure.

"Ron, do shut up and move, I'm going to be late for Runes, you're not any better by standing there and gawking," She gave them a look of annoyance and then left, Ron trailing behind her.

Harry turned to look at the crowd one more time. He wasn't sure if it was out of morbid curiosity or his unwillingness to join his friends that he currently felt animosity towards, but he found himself studying Malfoy's cool, emotionless face as Pansy dragged him through the crowd, barking orders along with Snape, who was now trying to clear out his classroom with threats of detention and point-deduction. Afraid of repercussions, Harry began to leave, but not before he caught a look at Malfoy's eyes, still curious to see if they were red and tired looking as he had thought before.

They were. Satisfied, Harry started for the door, but not before Draco met his glance. For a second, Harry was stuck, not expecting the blond to even think to look his way. Harry was almost embarrassed and was eager to make his getaway, but then Malfoy did something so surprising that Harry found he could not move at all.

Malfoy smiled at him. Not a sneer, or a smirk, but a real, genuine smile, and out of habit and common courtesy Harry almost smiled back, but then suddenly realized _who _had smiled at him and without thinking Harry blinked and bolted for the door, confused and flustered as ever.

* * *

_"My Lord, with all due respect, he is just a boy."_

_ Harry was standing in a cold, damp room. Bloodline trees decorated the wall, green and silver branches connecting families to other families, coiling around sleeping portraits of famous, pureblood wizards. There was a blazing fireplace at the corner of the room, where the gigantic snake Nagini slept in front of the flames. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy sat quietly on the other side of the room, their faces impassive. The air was tense and uncomfortable, which was the typical atmosphere of a room with Lord Voldemort's presence. _

"_It matters not his age, Severus, but his position. Not only does he attend the same school as Potter, but they are in the same year, as well. He will be able to provide us information that no one else could, let us in on Potter's weaknesses and fears, and manipulate the situation from the source. It is vital that we take advantage of this convenience." _

_ The words had come out in a voice that was not his own, but cold, icy, and persuasive. He was looking at Severus Snape through slanted lids, twirling his wand between his fingertips._

_ "Of course, My Lord. But trust me when I say that I observe these two every day, and their relationship is heated, to say the least. The likelihood for Potter to form such a close bond with him, closer than his own friends, is worryingly small."_

_ Harry felt himself smirk. "Well, let's hope he'll be quite convincing."_

_ Narcissa squirmed uncomfortably. Lucius shot her a warning look, but it was too late. "M-my, my Lord?" she pleaded pitifully. "My Lord, please, isn't there anyone else? Forgive me, my Lord, but he is my only son, our only heir." Her face was pained and aged as if she had been under a great deal of stress._

_ "Oh, quit your prattling, Cissy!" Bellatrix Lestrange emerged eerily from what seemed like thin air, her dark appearance blending in with the shadows of the room, making her previously unnoticeable. "You should take this as an honor, being his mother. Many would kill for this opportunity, to serve the Dark Lord so directly. Even as his aunt, I feel immense pride for our young Draco." She then turned obediently towards Harry, smiling vilely and staring at him with what could only be described as utter devotion. _

_ Harry acknowledged her admiration with a nod, and turned to face the Malfoy's. "It seems that such strong loyalty does not run in the family as one would originally believe. I will make certain that is not the case for young Mr. Malfoy. However, Narcissa, your worry is quite understandable. But don't fret. Draco will not partake in anything dangerous. In fact, this plan will ensure him the safety and protection of Hogwarts and…" he sneered: "Dumbledore."_

_ Bellatrix gave an awful cackle, making Narcissa jump. Lucius grabbed her hand soothingly. "Forgive my wife, My Lord. Bellatrix is right. This is a great honor."_

_ Harry turned his back to them swiftly. "Good. At any rate, it would be quite prudent to get over your fears for your son, Narcissa. This is just the beginning of Draco's service for our cause. Respect is earned, not given. I expect you to encourage and embrace Draco's new found…responsibility. Failure would mean dishonor and horrible consequences."_

_ Harry turned his attention back to Snape. "I trust in you, Severus, to oversee this plan and mentor Draco. Surely, he will need guidance. He will confide in you more than anyone else. Do not disappoint me."_

_ "As you wish, My Lord." With that Severus Snape was gone with a loud crack, the noise the only sound echoing throughout the room besides Narcissa's muffled whimpering. _

* * *

Harry awoke with a start, panting and gasping for breath. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his forehead felt as if it would split open. Ron was sitting up in his bed, alarmed but calm, as he was quite used to this occurrence.

"You alright, mate?" Ron questioned, lighting the room with a quick _Lumos_.

Harry squinted at the brightness, still panting but managing a "Yeah, just a dream." Ron nodded and countered the spell, pulling the covers on and already falling back asleep. Envious, Harry closed his eyes and tried to do the same, clutching his still throbbing forehead. All he could remember were muffled words and loud, callous laughter, meshed with the weird image of Draco Malfoy smiling at him.

Confused and frustrated, Harry eventually drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_I was unconscious, half asleep_  
_The water is warm 'til you discover how deep_  
_I wasn't jumping, for me it was a fall_  
_It's a long way down to nothing at all_


	3. Chapter 2

…_I am writing you in regards to my requested confirmation…_

* * *

"So, Severus?"

Severus Snape was kneeling in front of green flames, looking at the face of Lord Voldemort, whose head seemed to be coming from the fire itself. He spoke in low tones, aware of his surroundings despite the many silencing charms he had placed inside his office.

"The plan has been put into effect starting yesterday, My Lord."

"And?" Even through the flames that disfigured his face, Voldemort was just as snake-like and pale as he was in person.

"It's too early to tell, My Lord. I am receiving updates from Draco every day; I can only tell you what he tells me."

"Yes, very well. What about the Ministry woman?"

"She is taking over Hogwarts as we speak. The Ministry has completely redesigned the education system, and she will soon perform examinations on the professors and their…capabilities."

"How amusing, that pure fear has driven Cornelius to work in our favor, without me having to even acknowledge my existence. Fear is the most powerful emotion of all, Severus. Dumbledore is too blind to see it, and he has weakened Potter by telling him differently. He will not be able to escape the same fate of his parents."

Snape ignored the bile that was rising in his throat. "Is there anything else you need of me, My Lord?"

"No, Severus." Voldemort's voice hissed with the flames. "I shall leave you now. I expect you to keep me updated."

"Yes, My Lord."

Voldemort's head soon disappeared, and Snape was left with a warm, crackling fire. He stared at it for a moment, enjoying the comforting heat, and then he took out his wand, muttered a spell, and the flame went out, leaving his office completely dark.

* * *

"Please turn to page three hundred and sixty-three."

The room was absolutely silent except for the eerie sound of pages being flipped and the gigantic pendulum clock whooshing back and forth at the front of the classroom. The atmosphere was strained and heavy with precautious authority. No one dared groan or complain for fear of severe consequences.

Dolores Umbridge was standing at the front of the classroom, observing her students. She was wearing her traditional furry pink dress and matching hat, which sat upon her curly brown hair and toad-like head. Her face was pudgy and unpleasant, and her forced smile displayed her red, thick lipstick. She was completely nauseating.

"Today we will be learning about _defense _spells," her voice was sickeningly sweet. "Please use the next few minutes to read chapter four."

Harry started to read, but the words became mingled symbols and signs and eventually his mind drifted off to his thoughts. He had managed to let go of the whole Malfoy incident, but he couldn't stop thinking about his dream from the night before. Even though his memory of it was a blurry, perplexing mess, he felt it held some sort of importance. Not to mention, Sirius hadn't replied to the letter Harry sent a few weeks ago, and despite Hermione's reassuring explanations of Order Owls taking different routes so not to be intercepted, it didn't ease Harry's worry.

Across from him, Hermione raised her hand. "Excuse me Professor, but there's nothing in this chapter that's actually about how to _use _these spells."

Suddenly, the sound of turning pages stopped. Someone dropped their quill, which hit the floor loudly. Everyone's eyes turned towards Umbridge. Her face was aghast, but then, she smiled wider than before.

She laughed. "Using spells? Well of course not, dear. I can't imagine any reason why you would _need _to use spells in my classroom."

"We're not gonna use magic?" Ron asked, who was sitting next to Harry, whose hands were beginning to clench in anger.

"You'll be learning about using defensive spells in a secure, Ministry approved, risk-free environment." she said persuasively.

Harry nails were digging into his palm. "What use is that? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free." He could feel his face getting hot. Surely this wasn't happening, Dumbledore _couldn't _let this happen.

"Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class." Umbridge answered curtly. "It is view of the Ministry that theoretical knowledge of spells will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which after all, is what school is all about."

Without caring, Harry retorted hotly, "And how is _theory _supposed to prepare us for what's out there?" Ron nudged him, but Harry ignored it. After talking with Sirius, he should have known, should have been prepared for this, and yet he refused to accept it.

Umbridge was quick on target. "There is _nothing _out there, dear. Who do you expect would want to attack children, like yourselves?"

His reply was easy, and he said with mock-consideration: "Oh, I dunno, maybe Lord Voldemort?"

There were gasps heard throughout the room, and Hermione shot Harry a stern look, but he was too angry to care. Umbridge looked outraged, and Harry enjoyed the rare moment of her losing her composure. But it didn't last long; quickly there was a false smile on her face and she clasped her hands together firmly.

Her voice was soft as she started to walk between the desks, looking at every single student. "Let me make this quite clear. You have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large once again. This-is-a-_lie."_

Harry exploded. "It isn't a lie! I saw him, I fought him-"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Dolores turned with finality, but Harry wasn't done. His retort was on the tip of his tongue, but an unexpected voice beat him to it.

"So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" unlike Harry's, the voice wasn't angry and demanding, but slow, and sarcastic. It came from the back of the classroom, and everyone's heads turned. Harry knew that voice, knew it extremely well, but he couldn't believe it, his mind refused to process it.

Umbridge whipped around sternly, searching for the owner of the voice. She followed the direction of everyone's eyes, and the surprise on her face would have been easily evident, had anyone been looking.

"Mr. Malfoy. How disappointing. I wouldn't have expected this from you." She was staring directly at him, her face impassive, although the tone of her voice was obviously condescending.

Draco Malfoy smirked, unconcerned of all the attention. "Well, Professor, I wish I could say the same, although I'm not surprised in the slightest of the rubbish that's coming from the Ministry. A shame, really."

Gasps and whispers ignited, and Professor Umbridge's face was purple. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had matching faces of shock, and Pansy was tugging on Draco's arm, whispering: "What are you _doing_?"

Umbridge's nostrils flared, but she said sternly and calmly, "Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident."

Again, Harry opened his mouth, but Malfoy laughed. "Accident? It was murder! The Dark Lord killed him; surely you must know this."

"_Enough!"_ Umbridge yelled, her control crumbling. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and composed herself, smiling. "Enough." her voice was unsettlingly sweet again. "Another word from you, Mr. Malfoy, and I'll strip you of your Prefect duties. I will see you and Mr. Potter in my office this evening."

And with that, she turned around and began writing page numbers on the board with her wand, leaving Harry completely and utterly baffled.

* * *

"Bloody _hell_." Ron was stuffing a ridiculously large turkey sandwich into his mouth, and chewed up bits of food were spewing about as he spoke. "What is going on with the world?"

Hermione winced at Ron's eating. "I should have known this was going to happen, but-_Ron, close your mouth!_-I didn't think it would get this far."

They were sitting in the Great Hall for lunch. Harry was pushing food around on his plate with his fork, thinking hard and listening to his friend's conversation. The fact that Malfoy had actually taken his side had stumped him for hours. First the smile, now this-it didn't make any sense.

Ron swallowed loudly. "What about the ferret, 'Mione? He's daddy's little pet, he is, and Lucius is a Death Eater. Why'd he want to smear the Ministry's rep? Whatcha think, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe he wanted to make sure Voldemort got proper credit?"

"Well it's madness, I tell you." Ron said while taking another huge bite out of his sandwich.

"Whatever it is, _something _needs to be done." Hermione grimaced at Ron again, and turned towards Harry. "I mean, we're not being properly prepared for our OWL's."

"OWL's?" Harry remarked. "We're not being properly prepared for _anything_. How are we supposed to fight against Voldemort without even knowing how to defend ourselves?"

Ron belched, finally finishing his sandwich. "Harry's right, 'Mione. OWL's are the least of our worries right now. I mean, blimey, what with Cedric-"

"I know Ron. I know. We need to fight back."

"But how?" Harry asked.

"I don't know." Hermione said quietly. "I don't know."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, trying to get a glance at Draco. He wasn't eating, and looked deep in thought. Harry smiled wryly. _How ironic_, he thought, _that it seems as if I have more in common with Malfoy than anyone else._

* * *

Harry walked into Dolores Umbridge's office tentatively, and was instantly overwhelmed by the color _pink_. The walls, the furniture, the carpet, and even the teacups sitting on her desk were all a nauseating pinkish color. There was china hanging all over the wall, each plate with a decorative picture of a cat that mewed repeatedly. It was the most unwelcoming room Harry had ever been in, including the old cupboard under the stairs, and it was because of this that Harry knew it could not belong to anyone else but her.

Umbridge sat at her desk, and she was stirring her tea. She was still wearing the same outfit from earlier, except now her hat was off, revealing more of her mousy brown hair. She now sported her golden cat pin, which was clipped snugly against her chest to the pink fabric. Harry thought she would blend in with the room if it wasn't for her toad-like face.

There were two smaller desks sitting in front of hers, and the one on the right was currently occupied by Draco Malfoy. His bleach blonde hair stood out dramatically in the room and as soon as Harry noticed him, he felt a pang of frustration. Even though the boy had surprisingly taken his side earlier, he knew that Malfoy would only make the detention more annoying.

Both of them looked up as he entered. "Ah, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge. "How nice of you to join us. Please, take a seat," she indicated the desk next to Malfoy and Harry sat down, slowly. He could see at the corner of his eyes that Malfoy was studying him, but Harry refused to acknowledge him. He was not in the mood for any more surprises.

Umbridge stood up from her seat and began to pace around the room, sipping her tea. "You boys are going to be writing lines for me while I run a few errands,"

Harry mentally groaned. The idea of detention together was one thing, but detention _alone _was another; without a professor in the room, Malfoy would be eager to start something. Harry suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable.

"What do you want us to write?" Harry asked, as Malfoy began getting out his quill.

Umbridge contemplated the question for a moment, and then said, "I think 'I must not tell lies', seems appropriate, don't you?" She giggled, and Harry's stomach churned. "Mr. Malfoy, you may put your quill away. I have my own for you to use." Malfoy looked confused, but he put his quills away anyway, and looked expectantly at Umbridge, who handed them two identical looking quills that she pulled from her skirt pocket.

"How many lines?" he drawled.

Umbridge was quiet for a few seconds. Then, she said quietly, "Until the message sinks in." She smiled unpleasantly and left, leaving the room completely silent accept for the mewing cats on the wall.

It didn't last long.

"I can't believe I'm stuck in here with you." Malfoy said snidely, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh god, don't start already. If you didn't want to be in here, you shouldn't have said anything." Harry remarked hotly. He should have known this was going to happen.

"The first time I actually take your side, and I get detention. How ironic." Malfoy got up from the desk and started examining things in the room, picking things up and setting them down as he went.

Harry thought about that for a minute as he watched Draco pace around the room. "Why did you take my side?"

Draco stopped abruptly and scowled. "It wasn't intentional, Hero Boy. We just happened to agree on something for once."

"You didn't answer my question, Ferret."

Malfoy put down a pink jewelry box he was holding and sighed. "Cedric Diggory was an alright guy. I respected him. To see the Ministry try to cover up how he died…would mean that he died in vain. You know?"

Harry stared at Draco in wonder, his anger dying down. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said."

Malfoy pulled out his wand and muttered a _Silencio _at the cats, to no avail. "Damn. Bloody annoying, these things are. Miserable woman."

Harry snorted. "I think that's the second thing we agree on." He turned around and picked up his quill to start writing, but didn't see any ink. "What the hell? There's no ink."

Draco was still muttering spells and pointing at the plates. He looked at Harry. "Of course there is, you idiot. Why wouldn't there be?"

Harry held his tongue. "Look for yourself."

Draco scowled and put his wand away as he walked over to the desk. "Yes there is, right…" he furrowed his eyebrows. "Crazy old toad, there's no ink."

"Brilliant you are." Harry said sarcastically, and Malfoy shot him a dirty look as his plopped down in his desk. "How does she expect us to write with no ink?"

"Wait a minute. What's that?" Draco indicated to a pink little sticky note on the desk, a note that Harry had sworn hadn't been there before. Harry plucked it off tentatively, and Draco leaned closer to see. It read:

_You won't need any ink._

"What the…?" Harry looked confused, but Draco's eyes widened in realization. He snatched a quill off a desk.

"It couldn't be…there's no way…" He turned the quill over and over in his hand, studying the design as if it were a puzzle.

"What?"

"Merlin…Potter, these are Blood Quills."

Harry blinked. "What?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "God, you're bloody clueless. _Blood Quills_ are punishment quills that don't require ink, because they use your own blood. They were banned from Hogwarts decades ago, although I hear Durmstrang still uses them. Whatever you write is forever inscribed into your hand…it's quite painful."

Harry stared. "How do you know this?"

"None of your damn business, Potter." Malfoy snapped, and took out his wand again. He pointed it at the parchment and began whispering enchantments Harry couldn't make out, but suddenly words appeared on the paper in graceful lines, copying themselves over and over until the whole page was filled with _I must not tell lies_ in red, shiny ink.

He turned to Harry's blank face. "Look," he said, his voice softening. "It's a touchy subject, alright?" he took a deep breath. "When I was younger…sometimes, as a punishment, father would tell me to write lines…the first time, I had no idea, and…I felt a sharp, burning pain on my hand, and by the time I was done…" Malfoy looked away, breaking Harry's gaze.

It was then that Harry noticed Malfoy's right hand, which had a faint, grey scar. Harry saw faded words, but before he could decipher them Malfoy snatched his hand away, putting it safe underneath his cloak.

"I'm so sorry." Harry found himself saying, and then instantly realized it was the first time he had ever felt sympathy for Malfoy. In fact, it was the first time Harry had felt any emotion towards Malfoy besides hatred or irritation. He suddenly felt very overwhelmed.

"Don't pity me, Potter." Malfoy said, although he held no real heat. "Anyway," he continued. "I never confronted him about it. After the first time, I talked to some of my friends from Durmstrang, and they taught me this." As he was speaking, he lifted up his hand towards his chest and pointed his wand at the pale skin. Harry watched in bewilderment as purple light hit Malfoy's hand, and, almost like a quill itself, drew elegant swirls and loops, until finally the light faded, and Harry could make out the words on the now branded and burnt skin. _I must not tell lies_.

Before Harry could ask, Malfoy said, "Glamor charm. You see, typically, Glamor charms are used to cover up imperfections. Many don't realize that they create them, as well. Takes a lot of practice, though."

This was a side of Malfoy that Harry had never seen before. Usually, he saw the annoying, sarcastic, snotty Slytherin, the blonde git that made Harry so mad every time he saw him he wanted to punch his nose in. But now, in front of him, was a cool, calm, and sophisticated Draco Malfoy, who was acting more intelligent and less snotty than Harry had ever witnessed.

Malfoy suddenly grabbed his wrist, and Harry barked, "Let go of me, prat!" but before he could jerk his hand away, a purple light came from Malfoy's wand and Harry felt his skin tickle. A few seconds later the light faded and left Harry with a similar branded mark, although this time the handwriting was slightly different. Draco started to inspect it but Harry snatched his hand away, alarmed.

"Calm down, you ponce. It will fade in an hour or two."

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, as Malfoy started on his parchment.

"Because, if Umbridge sees that you haven't written, she'll make us serve another detention." Malfoy said defiantly, but the argument was weak, and he knew it. He looked away and began casting the spell on his paper, both of them watching in silence as the words appeared, again in slightly different handwriting than before.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Harry asked when he was finished, and Malfoy sighed in defeat.

"No…I just…I don't feel like fighting with you anymore." He saw Harry's bewildered look, and quickly spat, "Frankly, your pitiful existence just isn't worth my time. It took me a couple of years to figure it out, is all."

Harry cracked a smile despite himself. "Really?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes, _really_." He sneered, but started chuckling too.

"And you can just decide this, without my agreement?" Harry asked, mock-seriously.

"It only takes one person to start an argument, Potter." Malfoy said, quite seriously, and Harry stopped laughing.

"What about your father?" Harry asked. "Surely he wouldn't be happy that you not only defied a Ministry dog, but are acting civil towards me, as well?"

Malfoy didn't answer immediately, and before he could, the door cracked open, and Dolores Umbridge entered the room. She eyed them carefully, and walked towards their desks, examining their parchments and hands. Then, she said sweetly, "You two may go. I should hope not to see you in here again."

Harry and Malfoy got up, trying to leave the room as quickly as possible. They were halfway out the door when she called, "Oh, and Mr. Malfoy? I told Professor Snape about your disobedience in my classroom. He is not pleased, and wishes to speak with you immediately." She giggled and turned away, and the two boys hurriedly left.

They started walking in different directions, neither meeting the other's eye, until Harry paused, stopping. Curious, he turned and shouted, "See ya, Ferret!"

He watched as Malfoy stopped at the sound of his voice. He turned around, and Harry could tell he was hesitating. He was about to give up and walk away when Malfoy said, "Bye, Potter."

With a sense of weird finality, Harry turned and began walking again, and he could tell Malfoy was doing the same.

* * *

Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room around seven to find it empty except for a few first years, and Ron and Hermione. He was eager to tell them about his detention, but noticed that they both looked downcast, and barely acknowledged Harry as he entered.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Hermione hesitated. "Trelawney's been sacked."

"_What?"_

Hermione began to tear up, so Ron cut in. "All those classroom examinations Umbridge has been doing lately…well, apparently Trelawney didn't…live up to the Ministry's expectations." He put a soothing hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione sniffed. "I've never liked that class, but, you should have seen it, Harry. It was in the middle of the hall, in front of everybody, and Umbridge tried to ban her from the grounds…luckily Dumbledore intervened, but the look on her face…"

With bitter realization Harry remembered the "errands" Umbridge had left for, and he could feel his fingernails digging into his palm. "We can't keep taking this. We _have _to fight back."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, well, easier said than done, Harry. I mean, this is the Ministry we're talking about. It's not like we have our own secret army or anything under our sleeves."

Suddenly, Hermione gasped. "Ron, you're _brilliant._"

"What'd I do?" he asked, confused.

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, who were both equally confused. "I have an idea."


End file.
